I Want The World To Know
by sherlockhead
Summary: The story of how John and Sherlock come out as a couple to their family, friends and eventually public. Rated T just in case.
1. Just Us

**To my great chagrin, it turns out I don't actually own any of the characters of stories from the BBC's Sherlock.**

** I always wondered how, if John and Sherlock were to be together, they'd handle telling the rest of the world. So I thought I'd write a fic to figure it out for myself. I want to add more chapters exploring how they end up coming out to everyone. Thoughts?**

**Enjoy!**

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"Another blog post, I see."

"Brilliant deduction," John replies without turning, looking intently at his laptop.

Sherlock, standing behind John's armchair and looking down at the screen of text with a perfect mix of disdain and irritation, pauses. "You're being sarcastic," he says after a moment, sounding a bit unsure.

"'How could you tell that from so little evidence? You must be some kind of genius!'" John sing-songs flatly, and smiles to himself as Sherlock's fingers, which rest on the back of the chair, drum with annoyance.

"Go on then, post it. I'm sure the internet is waiting with bated breath."

John taps at the spacebar lightly without actually pressing it. "I'm not quite sure how to end it, actually," he says. "Lestrade chatting about his cousin's fishing trip while we wait for the cab home isn't exactly a satisfying stopping point."

Sherlock moves his hands from the back of the chair to John's shoulders. "How about what happened after we got into the cab?" he asks nonchalantly.

"You mean the part where you made us take a huge detour to buy nicotine patches and then didn't have any money left and made me pay the fare?"

Sherlock leans down a bit, his left hand sliding from John's shoulder across his chest, to say into John's ear, "I mean the part where I very thoroughly thanked you for your generosity."

"Mm. I did like that part." John smirks down at his computer screen, but then a troubled look crosses his face and his expression slips a bit.

"I could tell." Sherlock brushes the knuckles of his right hand across John's cheek, half-playful, half-loving, and then straightens up and walks into the kitchen.

John looks back over his shoulder to watch Sherlock go, staring after him with his smile fading completely. He looks back to the screen and rereads the last few sentences, frowning. He looks back up at the wall and hesitates for a moment. Then he shuts his eyes, nods to himself, clears his throat and calls, "Actually, I've been leaving those bits out."

The fridge door opens. "I should think so, unless you've taken up erotic fiction," comes Sherlock's voice. "Speaking of which, we need eggs."

John doesn't even want to know how erotic fiction and eggs are related in Sherlock's mind—probably he'd never be able to enjoy either ever again—so he ignores Sherlock and takes a deep breath to continue. "I mean, I've been leaving everything out. About us."

There's a long pause. The fridge door shuts. "Oh."

John listens as Sherlock comes back to stand behind him again. He feels Sherlock's hand on his shoulder again, not at all cheeky now. "I suppose you want me to tell you what I think of that," Sherlock says.

John chews at the inside of his mouth. "Yes."

"That I'm scared too."

John reaches up to his shoulder and takes Sherlock's hand, and they stay that way together for a long, quiet moment.


	2. Harry

**Who to tell first? Perhaps the openly gay and loving sister? WHAT RUBBISH.**

**Bet you can guess what posh sibling is next ;)  
**

**Enjoy!**

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"Harry—Harry, listen, I have to… Well, I just have something I… OK, yes, but… Harry, HARRY!"

The excited female voice on the other end of the line goes silent mid-sentence, in clear surprise. John sighs, rubbing an exasperated hand over his face, and looks over at Sherlock next to him at the kitchen table, eyes filled with annoyance and discomfort and a hint of real fear, and also asking a question, _am I really doing this_.

The curly-haired man reaches out to take John's hand with a rare, kind smile and a nod.

Slowly, John nods in reply and turns his attention back to the phone. "Erm, Harry… you know Sherlock?" At a sarcastic reply about how no, she's never heard of such an individual, John groans and leans over the tabletop and says, "Come on, sis. Be serious."

At the expectant, prompting _Well? _on the other end of the phone, John swallows and turns to give Sherlock one last look, one last chance to tell John to stop, because once they've told just one other person there's no going back to it just being their tiny and unbelievable secret, their hidden joy and their hidden shame, holding each other and whispering with dark eyes with the blinds drawn.

Sherlock takes John's hand and presses it over his own heart so John can feel the warmth and the softness and the pounding, elevated heartbeat.

John squares his shoulders like he's about to head into battle and says, "Sherlock and I are together now."

And there're about five minutes of joyful squawking and another ten of merciless ribbing about how she always knew no brother of _hers_ could be completely hetero and then another ten of genuine loving congratulation and celebration, and as Harry's voice prattles from the phone that's been set down on the table, telling him about all the great gay clubs she needs to take him to (but not before she teaches him how to dress like a proper poof), John and Sherlock are holding each other and smiling with wet eyes in broad daylight.


End file.
